


Dark Half Of The Blue

by Ursa_Tyrannus



Category: MCSM, Minecraft Story Mode, SCP Foundation
Genre: Alternate Universe - SCP Foundation, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Body Horror, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Kidnapping tw, Not really. Mostly at the end, Songfic, Strangulation tw, Vomiting tw, eldritch horror
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-15
Updated: 2021-01-15
Packaged: 2021-03-13 06:55:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,154
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28774182
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ursa_Tyrannus/pseuds/Ursa_Tyrannus
Summary: After an attempted "Rescue" from the SCP Foundation by Aiden, Lukas is left as a caretaker for SCP-7714 on a days-long trip to an unknown destination. As the days pass, it becomes harder and harder for Radar to control his anomalous outbursts, overwhelmed by the endless flow of all knowledge the universe has to offer.Lukas is his only friend. He does what he can to make it better, no matter the trials or tribulations.
Comments: 3
Kudos: 7





	Dark Half Of The Blue

**Author's Note:**

  * For [HarmonyParty](https://archiveofourown.org/users/HarmonyParty/gifts).



> This is my half of a trade with HarmonyParty, centered around my SCP AU for mcsm! Some of the AU's story details are a bit lost in translation here, but I hope my readers enjoy regardless.

Lukas wakes up to the sound of gagging. 

His joints ache, legs folded and arms hugging his chest to contain what little warmth he has, nestled in a sleeping bag. Blearily, checks his watch. The tiny, red analog text reads 3 A.M.

Yesterday was Saturday, that makes… Four days. They’ve been on the road for four days now, and Petra still hasn’t bothered to tell them where the Hell they’re going. Four days and not a drop of y-909 is in sight, nothing to stop Radar from getting worse- another harsh reminder of that comes with the sound of something heavy and wet being coughed up. 

The door to their tiny, makeshift bathroom hangs ajar, giving way to a flood of dim LED light and the shuddering shadow of Radar. 

That shouldn’t be possible. He hasn’t eaten since the day before yesterday, but Lukas doesn’t bother questioning it. A lot of impossible things happen when Radar goes without amnestics. He never intended on bearing witness to the spiral again, but they’re stuck in this boat and Lukas supposes he’ll just have to row it. 

Lukas wriggles from his sleeping bag. The air in the truck is cold, setting into his skin like snow to the ground. His lab coat is equally cold, doing little to ward off the bitter chill even as the sleeves are pulled over his arms. More coughing from Radar drags him forward. 

Hesitantly, he crawls into the white light, slumping down at the shaking form’s side. Radar’s kneeling, hands harshly gripping the sides of the toilet seat, as Lukas’s hand falls onto his back. His spine is rigid beneath the jumpsuit, skin too cold for Lukas’s comfort. Chilled as he is, he seems to be recovering from sickness, quivering breath filling the room. 

“Buddy…?” 

Lukas leans closer, making the mistake of glancing over Radar’s shoulder. Whatever was just thrown up, it’s pure black, iridescent like oil and painful to look at for more than one reason. Lukas flinches as he looks down again, choosing instead to focus on his friend’s body and breathing. His eyes screw shut, vision blinking with abstract images. 

Cognitohazards. Can’t forget about cognitohazards. 

“...Feeling okay, bud?”

Radar’s voice is barely above a whisper, trembling with his breathing. “ _ Better… Hate me. Tried to poison. Gone now.”  _

“I guess so.” Lukas says haphazardly, as if he understands. The ‘poison’ is flushed away in a brief motion, but his friend isn’t fazed. Still shuddering, actually. 

Neither of them can stand to feel so powerless. 

“I- I don’t know how to help, but I’m gonna try, okay bud?” 

Radar stills. He glances to Lukas with a side-eye, sitting mechanically still as Lukas pulls him away, half-dragged back into the darkness comfort of blankets and sleeping bags. Something doesn’t feel right, a deep and primal instinct stirring as Lukas’s hands are wrapped around Radar’s bare wrists. A feeling like static flickers in the touch. He flinches, pausing as the truck makes a rough turn. 

Aiden’s driving. He always turned corners like that.

Lukas sets Radar on a mattress, back leaning against the wall, balancing him like a ragdoll on a shelf. Radar won’t go to sleep any time soon. Neither of them will. Not if this is the start of another  _ episode _ . 

Lukas sits down a few steps away, kneeling across from him. He won’t invade Radar’s space until he’s invited. If this is anything like a panic attack, he won’t want to be touched. It’ll just send him into more distress. Hysterics are the last thing they need. 

His promise is repeated like some kind of mantra. “I’m gonna try to help.” 

Try to be more useful than last time, at least. Watching silently across the room as his friend folded in on himself, whispering things that no human person was supposed to know. It’s easy to be scared by the anomalous, but Lukas is sick of being a coward. 

Radar starts to laugh quietly. 

_ Don’t take it personally.  _

Isn’t he  _ supposed  _ to be Radar’s caretaker?. Supposed to be a  _ researcher? _ Supposed to know what to  _ do? _

_ Ah, too late.  _

(There’s a little voice in his head that sounds like Aiden, shaking him by the shoulders and screaming that the foundation has never dealt with an anomaly like this before, that no team of experienced researchers would know what to do when isolated with a spiraling reality-bender other than get the hell out of dodge. He soaks in every word of it. Feels a sickness pool in his gut while the little angel and devil on Lukas’s shoulders take turns hitting him with their pitchfork and harp respectively.

There  _ is _ no right way to do this, is there?) 

Radar looks up, then, staring at Lukas wildly. The gaze alone sends a jolt down Lukas’s spine, some kind of energy that Lukas’s isn’t sure is natural or unnatural. 

Adrenalin is a hell of a drug, Lukas tries to remind himself as Radar’s laughter grows in volume. One could say that anomalous secrets, the knowledge of all things that ever were, is no laughing matter, but Radar seems to disagree. 

His laughter dies down, if only for a moment, to make room for speech. 

“ _ He’s not even a DOCTOR! AHAHAHAHA-”  _

Ouch. 

Of course, Lukas never told him that detail, for his friend’s peace of mind if nothing else. Isn’t it funny how things work out? Of all things, all the secrets Radar could be processing right now, he snatches  _ that one _ from the endless flood of information? 

Makes sense, actually.

And is Lukas really going to pretend that Radar isn’t right?

He’s inexperienced, a fluke who can only pretend to know what he’s doing if he isn’t blindly following orders barked by peers, a lucky coward who somehow weaseled his way above the rest thanks to a lucky break and a stroke of gratitude from the  _ person who keeps trying to torture his friend.  _

Some doctor he is. 

Taking further consideration, he can’t bring himself to hold anything against Radar. There’s too much to despair about what got them here. If Lukas were the one in so much- pain? Humanity-melting reality-bending mind-breaking anguish? - _ discomfort,  _ to say the least, he’d be snapping and calling out bullshit too. When he’s got  _ all the knowledge of the universe  _ thrumming to life within him, angry and wild and unkempt, his temper would act accordingly. 

In a broken, horrifying way, things are at least going predictably. 

Through the dimness, he can’t tell if Radar’s eyes are all black or if his pupils are just exceptionally dilated. He can, however, tell that light seems to be bending  _ around  _ his friend, pockets of pure darkness opening up around him and his image fading into black obscurity. 

Lukas’s shoulders sag in defeat.

Defeated, sure, but not done fighting yet. 

When he’s sure Radar will stay put, he snatches a bottle of water from a nearby crate. Radar’s probably dehydrated, if his body still has physical needs

Lukas uncaps it and takes a swig for himself. As he does, the  _ whispering _ begins. A few voices, not belonging to either of them, dart about the room like mice, varying in volume and what words they speak. Even if Lukas could hear them clearly, he wouldn’t know what language they were speaking.  _ This _ part always reminded him of Pentecostal sermons received through tv-static, congregants speaking in tongues and sounding more like monsters than the prophets they wanted to be. 

Here comes the hard part. 

Lukas returns to his former position, knees brushing the edge of the mattress as he leans forward, offering the bottle. 

“Here, bud- you should drink something.” 

Anomalous flare-up for not, Radar is just gonna feel worse if he doesn’t take care of himself. Poor health leads to more stress, which means worse flare-ups. In theory. 

Is Lukas grasping for straws here? Maybe. It feels better than doing nothing. 

Radar makes a  _ sound,  _ like a monster’s growl mixed with sand being sieved. Entirely inhuman, not like any animal he’s ever heard either. 

That’s a ‘no’ to water, then.

Whispering mice are soon joined by the Geiger-counter-like ticking of a Kant counter, fixed to his belt. Similarly, the reality anchors within the walls begin their pings, red dials brightening to life, one for each wall. It feels even more like they’re being watched, red eyes gazing down at them, and Lukas feels the sinking instinct that this is going to get much,  _ much  _ worse before it gets better. 

What else, then? Food is ruled out immediately; If Radar was just sick, he wouldn't want to eat anything. The reality stabilizers are doing the work when it comes to containment, even if they aren’t making Lukas any safer within the walls of the cell, so that means nothing for containment procedure. As far as comfort goes, he’s as close as he can get without stressing Radar out more… stories and shared thoughts are bound to cause similar stress with so much already going through his head. 

After all, if Radar is remembering  _ all  _ knowledge, he’d probably know what Lukas was going to say anyway. 

_ What else?  _

Lukas looks to his knees, fingers drumming against his thighs. Radar could get nervous if he stares. The black void strains his eyes anyway, as if it’s something more than just darkness. It  _ is  _ more than darkness, but it’s not just Radar either. 

Questions. He could ask questions, grip at even more straws and prod Radar for an answer or thought that could calm him down. It  _ could  _ also spell his death, like every other D-Class interview back at the Foundation, pushing too many boundaries too quickly with the anomalous, acting as if they’re in a place of authority, like they’re better, more in control, another hand of the organization that holds the anomalous captive.

In a way, they’re free from the Foundation, but Lukas wouldn’t- can’t -dare let himself mirror that.

But what do questions about home, about his comforts and his dreams, matter when those are things Radar can never seem to remember? 

“...Ra-” 

Too late. Lukas’s Kant counter  _ screams.  _

The darkness before him blooms into shadows of appendages exploding from the outline of Radar, reaching out in all directions. Each arm is different, some representing the limbs of animals he knows, like beetles or deer, while others are entirely alien, irregular in form. The limbs shudder as they reach into nothing, distorting, growing and shrinking as rapidly as they move and clawing the walls of the truck, leaving dark marks. Black crystals manifest between the limbs, either moving with them or floating indifferently. Radar is their root, crumpled up like an insect beneath.

The anomalous thing  _ roars,  _ confused and terrified. Reality anchors bleep louder, filling the truck with a terrible chorus of horror singing with the mechanical. 

One limb, a tentacle, shoots forward. Lukas’s throat is seized in it’s tight grasp, barely giving when his fingers shoot up to push it away from his neck. The dark form clings to his skin, thick and rubbery. 

“ **_USELESS._ ** ” 

Radar’s voice is barely recognizable, booming louder than the Kant counter and reality anchors, so loud that it  _ should _ shake the truck, but from below comes only the dull rumble of wheels on pavement. Nothing more. 

Lukas’s breath quickens, desperate for air in short supply. He can’t respond, nor does he know how. 

The tentacle tightens like a noose, crushing his fingers. 

“ **_ALL USELESS. YoU DOn’T KnOW ANYTHINg._ ** ”

He’s frozen, held prisoner by fear, by the only friend he’s got lashing out uncontrollably. Thoughts laden with emotion and deep, primal fear bubble up from the depths:  _ I’m sorry-- Can’t-- Why-- Aiden the bastard-- I don’t want to die.  _

The noose loosens a fraction of an inch, then tightens once more as voices around them rise like an ocean wave. 

“ **_You wish you’d closed your eyes when you had the chance._ ** ” 

Why does Radar have to know everything? 

And Lukas thinks harder, about how he doesn’t want to die. He doesn’t want it,  _ he doesn’t want it. He will see this through come Hell or high water. He has to. For himself, for Radar, even for Aiden.  _

**_He has to._ **

Because who else cared enough to give Radar the attention he really needed, not just as an anomaly, but as a  _ person? _ Who was brave enough to talk to him like a friend instead of a science experiment? 

Not anyone else on that damn site but Lukas. 

His mind lingers on that, holds it so closely and intensely with vestigial darkness and fear in the same grip. He holds the thoughts so fiercely that he forgets what’s holding him, the life slowly draining from his lungs. He realizes, perhaps a moment too late, that the dark spots growing in his vision may not be anomalous. 

_ Fuck you, I’m living.  _

The grip around his throat releases. He falls, carried on the waves of distant whispers that no longer speak harshly, hissing as they retreat back into the darkness, back to the anomalous cavern in the curve of Radar’s spine where they first emerged like a molting cicada, raw and unwelcome in the night. 

As soon as they’re gone, Radar jerks and gasps, light and color returning to him. He looks paler than he should. He coughs, half-gagging, bending over and covering his mouth. Luckily, nothing comes of it. The mattress stays clean. The kant counter silences its song, as do the reality anchors. Their bleeping slows to a low, near-silent hum. Black scorch marks on the wall, though, dusty and weaving unreadable patterns around the anchors, are impossible to ignore.

Lukas’s hand finds his throat, gently rubbing the ache away. He pants, using his other hand to lean back. 

Well.  _ That  _ was a new one. But it’s all the same, really, not the first time he’s had to will himself to live. He takes in much-needed breath, closing his eyes as they face the roof of the truck. There’s a window there, the glass inches thick, where fluorescent roadway light washes over him briefly.

Growling of the beaten highway beneath the truck’s wheels makes a welcome return. 

Deep breath in, deep breath out. 

… 

Radar, understandably, has a much harder time easing into the calmness of the night. He pauses his crawling-pace on the mattress to adjust his glasses, glancing around, like he can see things that Lukas can’t. His gaze pauses on Lukas, and he gasps again. 

“Dr. Porter? Doctor? I’m- I’m sorry, I’m so- so  _ sorry,  _ I didn’t  _ mean to- _ ” Radar scoots closer, touching Lukas’s arm. He touches back as tenderly as he can. 

“It’s okay. Happens to the best of us” 

Not really, but the last thing either of them want is to see Radar spiral again. 

“No- not okay!  _ Not okay! _ ” Radar pulls away, returning to his crawl-pacing, only stopping to cross his arms dramatically. “I sw- swear on Xarthea’s third moon that it- it’ll  _ never  _ happen again. Can’t hurt you!  _ Won’t! _ ” 

He’d started speaking like that yesterday; stuttering left and right, speech scattered with verbal tics, making all sorts of references to things that Lukas can’t even begin to understand. No doubt a product of this anomalous spiral, Radar pushing back against an endless flood of information for the words he needs and the way he wants to say them. 

It’s a nice thought. Radar knows _everything,_ learning more bit by bit, but what he seems to be the most assured of is what he _wants_ most. He’s not a bad person. He doesn’t want to hurt people. He’s just _scared,_ sick and desperate while dealing with the immense stress of being confined. 

“I’ll take your word for it.” Lukas means what he says, taking Radar’s offered hand that pulls him up onto the mattress. “Let’s just sit for a while.” 

Who else does he have to trust? 

What do either of them have here, but one another? 

Lukas finds himself lost in that thought as he and Radar get adjusted, setting up pillows for support. Lukas settles first, leaning against the wall. His little friend follows suit, nestling up against Lukas and leaning on his shoulder. 

“You okay?” Lukas says as he pulls up a blanket, stopping at their knees. “Tell me if you feel like you’re gonna get sick again.” 

“No, no- queasy. T- tired.” 

And that’s no wonder of its own. Now would be a good time for the water, with Radar back to a semi-normal state, but Lukas decides against it. They’ve been stressed enough tonight, reprieve is what the both of them need more than anything else. Lukas hopes that this time gives Radar actual time to think, to sort through endless memories in what little ways he can. Hopefully to make things more tolerable. Until things…  _ progress,  _ at least. 

Radar finishes pulling up the blanket. Another deep breath in, another deep breath out. Lukas rubs Radar’s shoulder, pulling him just a little closer. 

  
They sit like that for a while, breath slow and shaky. Radar’s fingers scratch at Lukas’s middle, toying with the buttons of his labcoat. He doesn’t mind. It’s a nice distraction, one of the many little details the night has to offer, like the yellow street light that floods in through skylight every so often, their transport cruising down a sleepy highway. It reminds Lukas of nights so long ago on grueling road trips, when the streetlights were his only companion to reading thick books about monsters and adventures. Then, the only limits were that of his imagination. 

The limits are different now. They’re beyond what Lukas can comprehend, all on Radar’s shoulders. 

For a moment, he remembers his first day meeting Radar. The ‘subject’ was initially described as a euclid level threat. Something that, in the right conditions, could act unpredictably and kill without hesitation. His surprise upon meeting a skinny teenager in the containment cell was met with amusement from fellow C-Class. His empathy, his  _ concern,  _ was met with downright laughter. 

He’d sat down with Dr. Reubens over coffee no more than two days later. 

“ _ Look- this isn’t healthy. He’s just a kid. We can’t just keep him locked up here like he’s some kind of criminal. _ ” 

Dr. Reubens chortled. “ _ Oh, Porter… Wait until you’re here for the 7-day test. Then you’ll understand.” _

Following the 7-day test, Lukas was similarly displeased. What they were doing was  _ torture,  _ and what they let happen was no fault of Radar’s own. It was  _ them.  _ Playing puppet master, toying with forces they could only dream of understanding. That’s what it was about. Understanding. In the name of  _ science! _

That time, all Lukas could do was keep his mouth shut. Being demoted back to D-Class would do nothing to help Radar. 

And, well, now… He can help. He can  _ try _ to help. 

Radar begins to tremble again, shoulders shuddering like branches in the wind. 

“What’s the matter, bud?” Lukas’s voice is barely above a whisper. He leans his head down, trying to look Radar in the eye. They’re pure white this time, but the kant counter doesn’t make so much as a peep. 

The whimpering response does little to ease his aching heart. 

“There’s- there’s so _much_ of it and it- its _too much._ Dr. Porter, _it hurts_ _so much._ ” Radar folds in on himself just a little more, pulling his hands to the back of his head, curling up. 

Lukas does what he can to combat  _ it,  _ the unseen knowledge attacking his friend from every angle. He squeezes the boy’s shoulder tightly, anchoring him to reality as best he can. 

In that quiet moment, Lukas can’t help but wonder why the truth must always hurt. Why the unknown feels the innate  _ need  _ to bite back when someone is pushed, unwillingly, into its darkness. No matter how intensely he explores the thought, he can’t seem to find a clear answer. It feels just out of sight, just beyond the limits of what Lukas can understand. 

It begs another question. Why do people like Radar have to hurt, even when they don’t deserve it? (Lukas doesn’t care how much of the records on SCP-7714 are redacted. He wouldn’t care if Radar turned out to be some kind of seven-story-tall puppy-devouring monster in ignorant disguise. No one deserves to suffer like this.) 

As Lukas is about to abandon the search, a mouse-sized answer fails to escape him. 

They don’t have to suffer.  _ Radar  _ doesn’t have to suffer- or, it doesn’t have to be the only thing he feels. Suffering can’t be the only thing that knowledge of  _ everything  _ brings. If there are good things in what Lukas knows, things like love and softness and the majesty of nature, can’t there be beautiful things among the stars, beyond the bounds of human understanding? 

There  _ have  _ to be. 

The shaking slows. He lets go of Radar’s shoulder for the sake of moving his arm lower, rubbing his back. It alone works wonders, Radar’s shoulders gradually slumping in relaxation. 

“Shhh, shh. There’s… there’s a lot out there to know.” Lukas glances away, looking for the right words. “But there are good things, right? Things that feel good?” 

Radar pauses, breath slowing. Lukas can only hope he’s struck some kind of chord that out-sings the endless chorus ringing in his friend’s mind. 

Languidly, the boy’s fingers retreat from his hair, falling onto his lap. A few beats pass with Radar lost in thought. He gathers those thoughts, slowly pulling the fragments together for Lukas.

“Yeah… y- yeah. It’s- it’s- _gaaAh-_ ” For half a moment, the thought shatters with Radar’s sudden recoil. He pulls it back together with a pat on the back from his caretaker. “All… touching. Strings. Like a loom!” 

“A loom?” 

“The- uh-” He stutters, raising his hands to demonstrate weaving motions between his fingers. The example is plenty. Memories flash in Lukas’s mind, images of old women weaving yarn through walls of string with the grace of harp players. 

“Ooooh.” 

“Mhhm.” Radar nods affirmingly. “Strings that hold it all together. Ones that- that weave between. Some gaps. Mostly empty. It’s- it’s- it’s… mhm. Unraveling. Spinning itself. Kinda pretty.” 

Lukas finds himself grinning. He lets out a sigh he hadn’t realized he was holding. The image is comforting, Lukas won’t deny that, but it’s Radar’s  _ certainty _ that brings him relief. He’s got an anchor. The loom leaves room for joy. Companionship. Lukas takes the opportunity with grandeur, shimmying from the blankets to reach for his bag. Fingers digging through various pens and papers, it doesn’t take long to find a certain square  _ something.  _

“Keep talking- So, what  _ is  _ it, exactly?” 

“It’s everything.” Lukas hasn’t heard his friend speak so groundedly in days. “Where we were, where we are, where we’ll be. Don’t know where we’ll be- but we  _ will  _ be.” 

The concept of  _ being _ is spoken with absolute certainty. No joy, no death, no breaking apart, no fear. Just  _ being.  _ That’s more hope than they’ve had to work with in the last half-week. They might make it. They really might survive this, together. 

If they’re on a roll, Lukas may as well take another shot. He holds up an ipod, earbuds in hand. “You’re not too overstimulated, are you? Wanna listen to music?” 

The offered earbud is immediately taken. “Yes, please. Loom’s too loud.” 

He can’t help but laugh at that, leaning back against the wall. Radar works his way right back under Lukas’s arm, nestling into place, while Lukas is occupied with carding through various albums displayed on the touch screen. Eventually, his thumb stops on one. 

“You said you liked Arctic Monkeys, right? I’ve got a lot of Alex Turner.” 

Radar hums. Before Lukas can click ‘play’, his buddy is back to toying with lab coat buttons. The beats of the song begin, music flowing.

_ I’m not the kind of fool who’s gonna sit and sing to you _

_ About stars, girl _ _  
_ _ But last night i looked up into the dark half of the blue _

_ And they’d gone backwards... _

_ Something in your magnetism must have pissed them off _

_ Forcing them to get an early night  _

_ I have been searching from the bottom to the top  _

_ For such a sight  _

_ As the one I caught when I saw your-  _

Lukas is snapped out of his doze by a certain someone harshly nudging his shoulder. 

“Look… look!” For the first time in days, Radar  _ smiles _ at him. He points to the skylight. Its darker now, the highway long since passed. They must be on the backroads now. 

“You can see the stars.” Radar says, eyes no longer stark white, twinkling with hope.

Lukas  _ can  _ see them, wisps of cloud making way for the remarkable shimmering of blues and whites. Lights so far that Lukas can’t comprehend the distance, reaching down to earth, reaching for he and Radar through the skylight. 

There the two of them are, holding one another in the night, lulling off to sleep in the whisper of starlight and song. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Please comment if you have feedback. The song lyrics used are "Stuck on the Puzzle" by Alex Turner. Could NOT stop listening to that song while writing this. As one would expect, this fic was heavily inspired by Lord Bung's Confinement series, notably Episode 4: "The Girl In The Ice"


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